


Copper

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, High School, Reader-Insert, Romantic Comedy, Sick Character, sweating emoji, that's why this has to exist now LOL, uhhhh so atsumu is like hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x atsumu miya]He’s childish, hard to take care of, and an all around pain-in-the-butt. He’s mean. He’s selfish.Boy, aren’t you dumb for loving him anyways.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 395





	1. [ he refuses treatment, even when he’s sick. ]

**Author's Note:**

> atsumu stans... rise up. s4 is gonna feed us so good.

Being a friend of the Miyas meant you had a key, so you were over there pretty often. Their parents loved you like another kid and it was the most mi casa, su casa you could get. Besides, maybe one day you’d be a Miya yourself.

If Atsumu would be a less shitty boyfriend, for once in his goddamn life.

“Go away,” he whined, completely depressed that he was bedridden and Osamu was at volleyball practice. He hadn’t actually said this, of course, but Atsumu wasn’t all that hard to read.

“No,” you replied flatly, dropping your bag and crossing over to his bed. He rolled away from you and pulled up his blankets to cover his head. With a groan, you found a corner and yanked his sheets down enough to expose his head. His bleach-blonde hair was uncharacteristically messy and he pouted up at you.

“Would you stop being a baby?” you complained. “I came all the way here to take care of you, you know.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

_Obviously, you do_, you thought to yourself, another twinge of annoyance cranking down your mood. He and Osamu shared a room and there was a pretty clear divide. Osamu’s side was neat, bed made, books stacked in order—Atsumu’s had wrappers and trash lining the floor, clothes and underwear strewn about, and crumpled papers overflowing off his desk. With a sigh, you leant down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The warmth of his skin was concerning, but Atsumu jumped back as if shocked, suddenly alert with wide eyes.

“H-hey, what’re you doin’?!”

“Giving you kisses to get better. Duh.”

“You can’t do that!” he argued, his face flushing even redder than it had already been. “What if you get sick too? What then?”

“Oh? So you _do_ have feelings.”

“[Name], wait—!”

“Move!” you snapped, shoving him closer to the wall with your foot so that you could clamber into the bed. Being six feet tall, he wasn’t the easiest person to be the big spoon of, but you made do and tucked his head up to your chest. You rested your other hand on his back and rubbed big circles until he quit squirming.

“Sorry you’re missing practice,” you whispered once he’d settled down and stopped fighting you. “I know it sucks. How do you feel, Atsumu?”

His breathing was stuffy and laboured, and even though he was burning hot, his hands were freezing cold. The trained fingers hovered over you before reluctantly relaxing, curling onto your shirt.

“…better now.” It was muffled, but you heard him loud and clear.

“Do you want me to make you some ginger tea?”

The fingers twitched, tightening their hold. “No. Don’t leave yet.”

If he wasn’t feeling so cruddy you definitely would’ve made more fun of him, but you relaxed and let him sink into you. After a while you heard him syncing his breaths to yours, matching you. He’s always the type to pay eerily close attention to others, even when he doesn’t even mean to—he is the best high school setter in Japan, after all.

Case in point, Atsumu Miya is an asshole. To those air-headed fangirls of his, you’re the villain, stealing away their knight in a black jersey. But they don’t have to deal with a whiny, selfish, childish sore loser. They don’t even _see_ this side of him. But you do. And you deal.

“Can I have another kiss?” he asks suddenly, keeping his head buried into your shirt. You bite down a smug grin, rolling your eyes.

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?”

“But you want _me_ to get better, right?” he retorts.

“Fine, fine.” Knowing how demanding he is, you give him a kiss on top of his head, a big _smooch_ for dramatic flair. “There. If I get sick, you’re going to have to take care of me. Even if that means missing practice again. Got it?”

“…yeah, got it. Gimme another one.”


	2. [ he blows off dates to play volleyball. ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE TO THE TOP PREVIEW I'M WHEEZIN I'M QUAKIN IN MY MF COWBOY BOOTS DNHNASO2898`;;-?/13JLBnsbIHB

“Yoo-hoo.”

You instinctively freeze when you hear the voice and turn to the door. Sure enough, he’s standing there with that piss-you-off grin, beckoning for you with his fingers to come towards him. And, sure enough, the girls around you start to whisper amongst themselves. He lives off the attention. You can’t hear them clearly, but you’ve played this game long enough to guess at what’s making their faces light up red. _Yes, Atsumu’s an attractive guy. No, he’s not single._ Though he might be, soon, if he keeps pulling shit like this.

“What?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms once you enter the hallway with him. He blinks, taken aback by your tone.

“Whoa. I haven’t been twisting your panties, so what’s up?”

You roll your eyes, feeling them bug out with the force. “Seriously? You don’t even know what you did wrong?”

“I did something wrong?”

“Yesterday!” you blurt out angrily, unable to keep your frustrations to yourself anymore. “What happened yesterday?!”

“I had volleyball practice. Why?”

You feel like you’re going to grind your teeth down to your gums with this guy. You whip out your phone and swipe to the calendar. Yesterday, at 2:55 PM, it clearly says: **date w/ tsumu**.

“Shit, what?” he mumbles, squinting blearily at your screen. He grimaces when he glances back up at you. “Geez. Sorry, [Name]. I must’ve mixed days up…”

“Look, Atsumu. I know sports are important to you, but like. I was waiting like a whole ass clown, y’know?” You sigh and tuck your phone back into your pocket, hugging yourself tightly. “If you want to bail on me, at least have the decency to let me know a business day in advance so I don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t want to bail on you!” he argues, “I just—”

“Yeah, yeah. You forgot. Look, it’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. I’ll forget about it eventually.” You scoff and turn to go back into class before he reaches out and grabs your arm. His grip softens around you right after, circling your bicep with a scalding hot warmth. Your steps freeze but you can’t muster the courage to look up from your feet. What kind of face is he making? What if he agrees and it’s actually over?

“You don’t have to think so badly of me.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, letting you know that for once, he’s serious. You keep your head down, hair fluidly slipping out from behind your ears to curtain your face.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Fridays are gonna be for you.”

His hand moves from your arm and up to your chin, carefully tucking hair back. You jerk your head up, anxious of what kind of moves he’s thinking about pulling in a public hallway. To your surprise, he pulls his hand back in a rare act of humility.

“I screwed up,” he admits, his dark honey eyes flickering around before settling on you with disconcerting resolution. “But just because volleyball means a lot to me doesn’t mean that you come second or anything. Let’s go to your favourite restaurant after school, okay?”

“…bill’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He reaches out again and takes the hand you’ve pressed against your side, pulling it towards him. Bashfully, he kisses the fingertips. You withdraw your hand sharply, even though you should be used to these violently public displays of affection by now—even so, your heart is fluttering uncontrollably in your chest, and it makes you stupidly _happy_. Loving him is so full of ups and downs it makes you dizzy.

You do owe it to him to believe that whatever he sets his mind to, he’ll do. He said he’d make it up to you and he did, two—no, three times over. Until you’re breathless and shaky. He’s addictive, that way, because even though you know it’ll hurt you sometimes, you stick around anyways.


	3. [ he likes other girls' pictures in front of you. ]

“Hey, Tsumu. Turn the fan on, would you?”

The acrid smell of hair bleach was quickly filling up the cramped washroom, making it hard to breathe. But, of course, being the distracted bastard he always was, he was on his phone and not listening. Frustrated, you tugged firmly on a strand of his hair, earning a yelp.

“What the hell, [Name]-chan?!” he complained, his phone clattering to the floor. Mid-scowl, you were about to tell him off when you looked down at your feet and saw an unfamiliar girl smile back up at you. The red heart beneath her picture seemed extra bright, somehow, and it looked like he was halfway through commenting a spam of lovey-dovey emojis to boot. Atsumu ducked and scooped the phone into his hand, trying to block your view. It was too late, and his mortified behaviour ticked you off worse.

“Really?” you asked, more tiredly than in disbelief. “You’re really going to like other girls’ pictures when I’m bleaching your hair for you?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” he stammered out in that way cheating liars caught red handed stutter. You sucked your teeth irritably.

“What’s it look like, then?” You made air quotations with your gloved hands, hearing them crinkle with the weight of the bleach cream you’d started slathering into his beloved hair. “‘Cause I’m just saying, I can just let you go out there with half-bleached brassy roots.”

“It’s going to sound stupid, but I swear.” He grimaced. “I thought it was you.”

“You thought it was me?” you repeated incredulously. He nodded rapidly, looking ridiculous with half of his bangs swept back with white cream and the other sticking up at odd angles. He turned his phone back around to you and pointed at the girl’s face aggressively.

“You guys have the same hair colour and haircut, don’t you? I wasn’t paying attention. Do you want to look through my likes or something?”

“I’m not a crazy jealous girlfriend!” you denied indignantly, kind of hurt that he’d think that of you. “Why would I want to do that?”

“I just wanna prove I’m faithful to you,” he huffed. “Liking a girl’s picture isn’t the same as trying to get with her.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he mentioned so casually how he was _faithful_. Because, in truth, he was undeniably faithful to you… even if he was the type of person to dick around. Never once had he made you think that he would compromise your relationship. He was hoarded by a fan club every day, and although Atsumu—with that blown up ego of his—was always buddy-buddy with his adoring fans, he never once made any of them hope that they had a chance while he was with you. You knew this because of the number of glares you got in hallways. Knowing you had to save face, you scoffed loudly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your expression had softened for a millisecond.

“Says the guy who flirts with anybody who comes into his five-foot radius.”

“Wh—that’s just me being nice, [Name]! Ever heard of that?”

“I’m kidding,” you snorted, waving him off. You gripped the crown of his head and forcibly cranked his head to face the mirror. “I already know you’re just an asshole like that, all right? If I got jealous over every girl you talked to, or everybody that had a crush on _you_, I’d burn out.”

“Hey, now…”

“I’m still with you, aren’t I?” you asked. You glanced up into the mirror, already seeing him skulking. He was always sensitive when the conversation steered this way. You gently massaged his scalp with the tips of your fingers, getting him to make eye contact with you. His amber eyes were round and soft when they met yours. “I figure you can’t do any better than me.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“What?”

“You aren’t going to… I dunno, argue?” Your hands were frozen, stuck to his roots. He shrugged.

“I already got the best girl around. Why bother?”

You couldn’t hide it this time and bit down the smile, averting your gaze. His stare felt heavy.

“You’re pretty romantic sometimes, Tsumu.”

“I am romantic _all_ the time—ow! Stop pulling, you hag! That hurts!”

“Call me that again. I dare you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art: @ majunjuu on ig


	4. [ he gets embarrassingly competitive. ]

Miya Atsumu, no matter how tall or strong he is, has got the mental age of a toddler. 

“Ha!” he shouted snidely, beaming when he saw the dreaded red **YOU LOSE…** drift up your side of the screen. Of course, the blue **YOU WIN!** flashed on his. You could only glare back at him tiredly, letting go of the joy-con.

“Whatever happened to letting your girlfriend win…?” you mumbled resentfully.

“That’s no fun,” he retorted, scooping tokens out of the machine. “You have to earn your win fair and square.”

“Fair and square?” you spluttered. “You… you _sabotaged_ me, remember?! You literally covered my eyes so I couldn’t see!”

“That’s called using a tactical advantage,” he simpered. “You have to utilize everything at hand. Anyways. What should we play next…”

It took all you had not to punch him.

You knew he was competitive; is there such thing as a non-competitive athlete? And he was good at what he did. That was admirable. Of course you were proud of him—your boyfriend’s a starter on a volleyball team that’s a regular favourite at All-Japan high school _nationals_. As much of a jock as he was, you’d still hope that he’d… go easy on his girlfriend? Maybe going easy is too much to ask. He should at least be _semi-nice_ to you. But no… Atsumu has to win everything.

Ever.

Who gets to go first in line? Atsumu. Who has to race you everywhere you go? Atsumu. Who has to answer everything before you can? Atsumu. Who gets the last bit of cake? Atsumu.

God, he’s kind of an asshole. You’re in the middle of thinking up a speech to declare dramatically while bursting into cinematic tears before he suddenly grabs your hand.

“Where are we going?” you yelp as he tugs your through the dark arcade. It’s all you can do to hug your bag to your waist so the strap doesn’t fly off.

“The crane games,” he replied excitedly. “We finally have enough tokens.”

You frowned in disapproval. “You know they’re all rigged. Why’re you going to waste your money on it?”

The two of you jogged up to the aisle of machines at the front of the arcade—you a little breathless, seeing as you weren’t as athletic as he was. He pointed at a giant plushie of your favourite animal, waiting patiently in its glass prison.

“You want that, don’t you? I saw you looking at it when we walked past.”

“You noticed?” you remarked in disbelief. Embarrassed that you’d been found out, you looked away and tucked hair behind your ears. “Um. I mean, it’ll be easier to buy in a store or something, so it’s not—”

“I’m going to win it for you,” he announced. He already had tokens in his hands.

“What makes you so confident?” you asked, watching him go with half-amusement and half-joy. He gave you a partial side glance as the machine whirred to life after greedily eating up his bronze token. Readying himself, he faced forwards and let his hands hover over the controls.

“Isn’t it obvious? ‘Cause it’s for you. We aren’t leaving ‘till it’s yours. Besides, I’ve got magic fingers.”

Your heart fluttered. Quietly, you walked up next to him as not to disturb his concentration. You didn’t notice, but he could see your smile even behind him through the reflection of the mirror backing. It spurred him on.

“I’m just saying, you probably spent so much on this that I could’ve just bought two—”

“Don’t be ungrateful!” he snapped. You stifled a laugh, burying your face into the soft plush.

“Fine. Thanks, ‘Tsumu. I love it.”

“You’d better,” he declared proudly, his chest puffing out just a tad. Hugging the stuffy, you squeezed it like you were giving him the same embrace.

“Oh! Pac-man! C’mon, [Name], I’m going to _crush_ you—”

He never changed, but that competitive streak isn’t all bad. You know because he looks for you in crowds before he serves; it’s to show off, but it’s also for luck. You know because the stuffy sits right on your bed, giving you his company when you’re lonely. And even though he _has_ to win everything, you supposed he’d won your heart while he was at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what other kind of magic can u do with those hands, 'tsumu?  
thank u to my ko-fi supporter !

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
